


Silver

by Aviss



Series: In the North - scenes not shown [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Spoilers, episode s0802
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 14:11:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18622090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviss/pseuds/Aviss
Summary: Before this night, she would have never been brave enough to do what she's just done. But tonight she's been emboldened by the wine and the fire, by Jaime's looks and his deference and his presence in Winterfell and everything unsaid between the two of them.





	Silver

**Author's Note:**

> Let me just say how much I loved this episode, and of course I couldn't help myself. This is a kind of continuation of Reunion, as it fit pretty much with it, though it can be read on its own.

"Why?" Jaime asks with a look of wonder on his face, the tips of his fingers pressed against his lips.

Brienne just stares at him, her own face aflame, trying to put into words the right answer. Before today, before this night, she would have taken his question for rejection or mockery, would have never been brave enough to do what she's just done. But tonight she's been emboldened by the wine and the fire, by the sense of camaraderie shared by everyone around the hearth and the knowledge they're all about to die, by Jaime's looks and his deference and his presence in Winterfell and everything unsaid between the two of them. By the fact that he's given her what she'd always wanted and the one thing in her mind as they stared at each other, two knights in a room full of people only aware of each other, was that there was one more thing he can give her she has desired her entire life.

"Tonight's probably our last night in this world," she finally says, echoing Tormund's words and, she realizes, the intent as well.

Jaime's brows shot up, surprise and amusement, and his reddened lips tick up minutely but he says nothing, waiting for her to continue.

Brienne feels her courage falter, her face so hot it's a miracle she hasn't combusted. It has taken her as far as following him out of the room and clumsily pressing her lips against his. He hasn't laughed at her or pushed her away in disgust. This is enough. It has to be enough.

She takes a step back and Jaime's hand moves to grab her wrist and keep her there, his expression serious once again. "You're right, Ser Brienne," he says, and she can feel a frisson of excitement at the way his voice wraps around her new title, all soft and proud. "Most of us won't see the end of tomorrow, and that gives courage to passions and words otherwise left unspoken. I have seen it many times on the eve of battle." He takes a breath and stares her in the eye. "Why me, is the question."

Now she's the one who's surprised; Jaime once spent weeks telling her in crude detail about the greatness of his cock and his prowess as a lover, and while she now knows he's not the same man as he was then, he's still the most beautiful man she's ever seen, maybe now more beautiful than ever, even with the lines on his face and the grey in his hair, for being honourable and kind. 

"I don't want anyone else," she says simply.

" _But why_? I'm not a golden lion anymore, there is more silver than gold in my temples and beard and I can barely fight with one hand," he argues, a crease between his brows. "I have not title or lands, and I'm only alive today because of you."

She notices that none of his objections are about her, and suddenly everything is so clear she can't believe she hasn't realised before. 

" _You love me_ ," she whispers astounded. It's the one thing she would have never believed, but tonight anything feels possible, even this.

"Of course I do," he dismisses, unimportant and obvious to him. As if he hasn't just upended her world twice in the space of a few minutes and given her everything she always thought she'd never have. 

She's a Knight and she's loved; the world can end tomorrow and she will die happy.

"I love you," she says, forestalling more protest. "I don't want anyone else. I don't want to spend whatever time we have left with anyone else."

He surges forward then, his lips on her, and this kiss is so different from the clumsy peck she gave him before; this one robs her of breath and thought, her hands clutching at his shoulders and pressing him against her body as tight as she can. 

"No, wait," he pushes her away, panting slightly. He looks around, his eyes blown, only a ring of green around them. "We can't, not out here, do you have rooms?" 

She does, and they're not too far from where they are. The walk to her rooms feels like an eternity, a blanket of expectant silence fallen between them. Brienne can feel her lips tingling, can still taste him on her tongue, dark and rich like the wine they were drinking before. Once inside her room, Jaime has her pressed against the door, his mouth hard and demanding until she feels her knees about to give.

She feels clumsy, her lack of experience shows, not knowing where to put her hands or if he's finding her kisses as arousing as she finds his. They clank together, armour dinging where they press against each other, and she can feel Jaime smiling against her mouth and slowing the kiss, gentling it. When they finally part for air, they don't separate more than an inch, foreheads pressed together. 

"Are you sure this is what you want, Brienne?" he asks, his voice rough and low.

"Yes." She hasn't been surer of many things in her life. 

"If we only had more time," Jaime says, wistful. "I would never dishonour you. I'd take you to the Godswood and claim you in front of the tree if you'll have me, for all the Northern Gods and men to see. I'd take you to the Sept and repeat the vows seven times, and let you cloak me in your protection the same way you protected me today."

She can't help but snort a laugh at that; he would do it. Fuck tradition, Tormund had said, but it's Jaime who bent tradition for her, and she has no doubt that if they survive and get married it will be Tarth's cloak over his shoulders instead of the Lannister one over hers. She likes that image very much.

"I'll have you," she says, her own vow. "If we survive, I'll have you. We'll sail home, to Tarth, and spend the days in Evenfall until both of us are covered in silver."

He kisses her again, and again, and again, not moving from the door, and Brienne knows they need to go to the bed but that would mean stop kissing him, and she's not going to do that, not while there's breath in her lungs. 

" _Brienne_ ," he moans against her mouth, his lips moving from hers to her neck, and she can't help the way she shivers and how her breath escapes as a groan at the sensation. 

Finally, she pushes away from the door and they separate. The room is small and cold, no fire on it this time, but they don't care. Jaime takes his armour one handed with the practice of years, and so does Brienne, the pieces clanking carelessly to the floor in their haste to get under the furs. Once there they press against each other, skin on skin, mouths finding one another easily as if they had been kissing their entire lives instead of mere minutes. 

It's nothing like her septa had told her; Jaime is not absent and doing his duty in the dark, hard and painful. He's tender, staring into her eyes while his hand explores Brienne's body and his mouth keeps tasting her lips and skin. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he says, reverent, his fingers slipping between her legs where she's slick and hot. He presses and rubs and Brienne can't help the sounds falling from her lips, the way her hands clench on his shoulders. "I wish I had all the time in the world to teach you the pleasure your body can give you." He's teaching her now, his lips closing around her nipple, his teeth grazing it at the same time his fingers slip inside of her, his thumb pressing her nub. Brienne shouts her pleasure practically melting on the bed, boneless, and Jaime keeps kissing her, panting against her mouth. He pushes his cock against her leg and Brienne opens them further, inviting him to properly take her. 

"Please," she says. 

Jaime shudders on top of her but wastes no time, lining up his cock and pressing inside. There is a bit of resistance and a sting of pain, negligible compared with all the injuries she has suffered, and then he's moving inside of her, his pelvis rubbing against her nub, his breath hot against her neck. They move together, harder and faster as the pleasure mounts, Brienne's hands on his back and buttocks urging him on, Jaime's hand on her cheek wiping tears she had not noticed she was shedding. 

"I love you," he says, eyes never wavering from hers.

She wants to return the sentiment, but her mouth is slack and her throat is closed and her words have deserted her, so she kisses him instead, hoping her tongue and lips will deposit the words inside of him. 

Afterwards, they lay together, still kissing, afraid that the moment they stop the spell will break and they will be called outside, to fight and die.

Brienne cards her fingers through his hair, darker than she remembers, shot with silver like his beard. 

"I like the silver," she says once the separate to breathe. "I have title and lands for the two of us if we survive."

" _The heir of Tarth_ ," he says, nonsensically, his eyes closing, his mouth curled on a smile, and burrows closer to her body as if trying to merge with her. "I'd like that."

Brienne tightens her arms around him and presses her lips to his forehead, closing her own eyes. They are all going to die, but here, in this room, the war feels far away and she can imagine a future where they marry and go back to Tarth, and they are happy. 

It's probably just a dream, but she also believed that of knighthood and love, and Jaime made them true. 

Maybe he can also give her this one.

...


End file.
